


The Minnesota Greasy Spoon and Other Misadventures

by Miniatures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sam, Fluff, Graceless Gabriel, Humor, Kinky Sabriel, M/M, One Shot Collection, Overprotective Dean, Sam can't sing, Scary Clowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Sabriel one-shots inspired by random sentence prompts from Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Want Me to Do What?

Gabriel wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “What did you just say to me?”

“Um.”

“You want me to do what?”

Sam shook his head. “It’s… okay. Sorry. It’s fine. I won’t ask again.”

“No, no, no.” Gabriel sat up and leaned against his pillow. Frowned down at Sam, who was looking very small and self-conscious for a naked hunk of muscled giant. “I wanna hear you say it again, because I’m pretty sure I hallucinated it. Go ahead.”

Sam made a face. “Okay, fine.” He took a breath. “Would you… possibly… be willing to…” He covered his face with his hands. “Fuck, it’s embarrassing.”

“Sammy, it’s not.” Gabriel drew one of Sam’s hands away, placed his own on Sam’s chest and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “So you wanna tie me up. That’s not even close to the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Not just handcuffed,” Sam said quietly. “I want you blindfolded and gagged and hogtied. Or, I mean, just handcuffed is fine, but the rest…”

Gabriel laughed. “Sam, you could tell me you wanna hang me from a flagpole and do a Minnesota Greasy Spoon while singing ‘God Bless the USA’ and I’d still give it a shot.”

“How… what does that even—”

“My point is,” the archangel kissed him again, “I’ve been kinky since before kinky was a thing. I’ll try anything once. If you want to and it feels good and we’re safe and smart about it, I say bring it on.” He smiled. “You don’t _ever_ have to feel embarrassed.”

Sam grinned and pulled Gabriel into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Of course, kiddo. Now, let’s see what we can do about that gadgetry…”


	2. Where the Fuck Did That Clown Come From?

They were taking out a nest of vampires. There was nothing magical about vampires, Sam knew. Vampires were animals—”mythical” animals, yes, but grounded and visceral and completely unrelated to the ephemeral, the mystic, the straight-up weird shit that would cause a manifestation of his greatest fear to prance among their ranks wielding a hatchet.

Still, there it fucking was.

“Where the _fuck_ ,” Sam screamed as he swung at one of the vamps, neatly beheading it, “did that _fucking_ clown,” _snick_ went another neck, “ _fucking_ come from?”

Lips caked in cracked paint peeled back to reveal rows of yellow, jagged teeth, and the clown let out a high-pitched laugh that was more like a shriek, hopping from one oversized foot to the other. Its eyes were jaundiced, watery, and bulging. Sam swore they were staring straight into his soul.

Dean didn’t seem to notice it. Nor did Castiel or Gabriel. They were too busy hacking heads, and dear god, _how many fucking vampires_ were in this nest anyways?

The clown took a jaunty little hop towards Sam, then another, then another. It was still letting loose that manic, shrieky laugh, swinging the hatchet aimlessly, like a kid with a toy. Sam took a step back, hands trembling, heart pounding. _No, no…_

He was being led away from the vamp fight, he realized. He realized, as one of the vampires sunk its teeth into Dean’s throat and _tore_.

 _No_!

Dean went down in a fountain of blood, and Castiel followed. Then Gabriel, in a spray of red and grace. And Sam was frozen on the sidelines, unable to move past that fucking clown.

The hatchet swung. The laugh grew higher. Sam was paralyzed, and there was so much blood…

“Sam. Sammy, wake up.”

Warm at his side, fingers at his temple, and gold, gold, gold…

He was in bed, and Gabriel was peering over him, brows furrowed. Sam sobbed a breath and pulled him to his chest.

“You okay?” Gabriel asked, voice muffled as he spoke against Sam’s collarbone.

Sam buried his face in Gabriel’s hair and inhaled. “Fucking clowns.”


	3. You Forgot to Say the Magic Word

“Gabriel, _stop_.”

Sam slammed his book shut and glared at the archangel through the tornado of tomes and notes currently swirling around him. Somewhere on the other side of the blur Gabriel’s face did a smug sort of contortionist act and settled into a sly little grin.

“You forgot to say the magic word,” he quipped, and Sam snarled at him.

“Gabriel, I swear to God—”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain? _Blasphemer_!”

“ _Gabriel_. Fucking stop this _now_.”

Gabriel sighed and snapped his fingers, and the tornado imploded into a mess of paper and cracked bindings.

Sam’s mouth twitched unpleasantly. “Clean this up,” he said, and his tone was icy.

“Will you stop studying and come to bed if I do?”

“You’ll be lucky if I talk to you for a week if you _don’t_ ,” Sam snapped. “This is priceless information, these documents _cannot_ be replaced if you wreck them, and I—”

“Have been at this case for days and haven’t fucking slept.” Gabriel’s eyes flashed. “Leave it alone, Sam. Come to bed before you keel over. Judging by the distance between your head and the floor, I’m pretty sure the fall would kill you.”

It was as if Sam were an overinflated balloon, and someone had let a bit of the air out. His shoulders slumped; Gabriel had a point, the fucker. Still, Sam was right about the books—he kept his gaze level, and the archangel’s returning expression didn’t change either. But then the books were back in order, undamaged and neatly piled on the table, and Gabriel gave Sam a thin smile.

“Come to bed _soon_ ,” he said, and turned to leave.

Sam caught him before he could take a step, held him gentle by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You forgot to say the magic word,” he said, and tugged Gabriel in the direction of their bedroom.


	4. Stop Trying to Cheer Me Up

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Gabriel said, twirling a Tootsie Roll between his fingers absently. “And you can stop.”

Sam shrugged. Widened his eyes in that puppyish way that he knew worked wonders on Dean. “What? I’m not doing anything.”

“Sam.”

“ _What_.”

Gabriel sighed. “For fuck’s sake, Sam, stop trying to cheer me up!”

The archangel—well, ex-archangel—tossed his Tootsie Roll back onto the pile of post-Halloween-sale candy that Sam had just hauled back from the supermarket. He’d plunked the bulk bags of assorted candies in front of Gabriel without a word not five minutes before. Five minutes that Gabriel had spent picking at the wrappers and not saying a word. Which was odd for Gabriel in general, but par for the course for him ever since they’d dragged him back to the bunker the previous week. Graceless, cut off from Heaven, and all their fucking fault.

Sam frowned. “I got the candy for everyone. I just… put it in front of you because…”

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. “Because you’re trying to cheer me up. I’m not stupid, Sam. Between this, the nudie mags, and the key to the relics room, I’d almost think you were courting me. And unless I’ve _drastically_ misread the room, I don’t think that’s what this is.” He laughed, but the sound was hollow. “You feel guilty, because I’m only like this since I risked my ass to save you and my precious baby brother. You don’t _want_ to feel guilty anymore, so you’re throwing presents at me. And it’s bullshit, so you can stop.”

There was a moment’s silence, and Sam picked at the label on the bottle of beer he’d picked from his newly-purchased six-pack. “Just so we’re clear,” he said, “the key to the relics room was Cas’ idea.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Sam shot him a look. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m not doing this shit because I wanna feel better about me?” he snapped. “Maybe I wanna cheer you up because I actually want _you_ to feel better.”

“Don’t do this, Sam.” Gabriel sounded so fucking tired, so fucking beaten, and it hurt to hear. “You don’t have to lie. If I had died again—hell, if I’d stayed dead the first time around—you wouldn’t have shed a tear. And that’s _okay_ , Sam, I’ve been a major fucking dick to you. You _shouldn’t_ care, none of you should. Just… don’t sit there and pretend like you do, it’s insulting to both of us.”

Sam set his jaw. Stood up and stopped by Gabriel’s chair, reaching a tentative hand to settle on the ex-archangel’s shoulder. Gabriel stiffened.

“Maybe you _have_ misread the room,” Sam said quietly. Rubbed a soft thumb against Gabriel’s shoulder, and smiled as he felt the slight but unmistakable shift of Gabriel leaning into the touch.


	5. Are You Flirting With Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other two prompts for this one were "I've got one word for you: sing along!" and "I'll never unsee that".

Sam wasn’t drunk. Or, at least, he kept insisting he wasn’t. He stumbled and slurred and giggled as Dean, Castiel, and Gabriel hauled him into the Impala, and kept at it even as Gabriel poofed them and the car back to the bunker (so as to leave them un-tailed). His cheeks and nose were flushed to hell, and Gabriel had never seen Sam drunk, but he’d stake his blade—the real one, too—that the mountain was well and truly wasted.

“Those witches sure did a number on you, huh,” he snickered. He wrapped one arm around Sam’s waist to steady him as they left the car.

Sam pawed at him absently. “P… pre’ sure they hexed me.” He giggled and patted Gabriel’s cheek. “Y’r _tiny_. Y’r alla way down there an’ I’m so… up here. S’like being carried by an ant.”

Gabriel laughed. “This is the greatest day of my life.”

Dean made a face. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Gabriel. Just get him to bed.”

“Aw, c’mon, when am I gonna get another opportunity like this? How often does he get this smashed?”

Dean glared. Castiel matched his expression.

Gabriel sighed. “You two wouldn’t know fun if it sucked your closeted dicks,” he snapped. “C’mon, Sammy, let’s get you to bed.”

“Didju know,” Sam went on as they entered the bunker, “that ants… ants can carry like a bajillion times their own body weight? An’… an’ angels can do th’same, I guess. Gabriel. Gabriel this… is important. Are angels the ants of th’sky? Like how-how pigeons are rats? Gabriel.” He giggled again.

Thankfully, they’d already reached his bedroom. Gabriel, still grinning, led Sam to his bed. Laughed as the giant flopped down on his back on the mattress. “Okay, kiddo, I’m pretty sure this is one of those sleep-it-off spells.” He gave Sam’s belly a gentle pat. “So… you stay here. Time for bed.”

Sam grabbed his wrist and offered a lazy grin. “Are you flirting with me?”

Gabriel blinked. Sam’s fingers, even clumsy as they were, still felt amazing as they rubbed gentle across his wrist. His wrist and—oh, _hello_ —up his sleeve along his forearm. “Sam, you’re out of your head. You need to sleep.”

“Only f’you join me.”

“Sam.”

“‘M _serious_ ,” Sam said, and to be fair, he _was_ wearing his Serious Face. “Y’r pretty. An’ squishy. An’ funny. An’ you make me feel fuzzy, but in a good way.” He leaned in a bit closer. “I like you a lot, Gabriel. A _lot_ a lot.”

Gabriel swallowed and removed Sam’s hand from his arm. “You’re not yourself,” he said quietly. “You wouldn’t be saying this if—”

“Yes, I would.”

Gabriel gave him a wan smile. “Let’s see how you feel about it in the morning, okay?”

Sam wrinkled his nose, and then he swung his legs off the mattress, getting to his feet in one awkward wobble. He pointed at Gabriel. “I got one word for you,” he said, and grinned. “Sing along.”

And then he started belting out Total Eclipse of the fucking Heart.

Under normal circumstances, a drunk Sam warbling Bonnie Tyler would’ve counted among one of the Greatest Things Gabriel’s Ever Seen. But Sam wasn’t just singing. Sam was _serenading him_. And though Gabriel would be lying if he said the thought of Sam wanting him back didn’t make him feel all warm and sticky inside, having Sam be cursed into drunkenness at the time of confession… wasn’t exactly ideal. Or believable. The whole thing was just an experiment in awkward, and Gabriel couldn’t watch anymore.

“Okay, Sam, we’re done,” he said, and turned to go.

Sam caught his wrist. “Turn aroooound, briiight eeeyyes,” he insisted, “‘cause every now an’ then I fall apart.” On the _apart_ , he grabbed his shirt collar and yanked—one button flew off and clattered on the floor as Sam exposed his chest and started rubbing it with his free hand. “An’ I neeeed you noooow toniiiiight…”

“Well,” Gabriel fought the urge to cackle at the sight of what was quite possibly the least sexy thing ever, “I’ll never unsee that.”

“An’ I need you mooore than eeever…”

“Sam.”

Gabriel made to tug Sam back to the bed, but Sam pulled him flush against his chest instead, pinning him with both arms wrapped around him.

“An’ if you only hoooold me tiiiight,” he sang, his voice dropping to a murmur, “we’ll be holdin’ on forever.”

Gabriel was warm, and oh god, if he could just pretend that Sam wasn’t out of his fucking mind right now…

“An’ we’ll only be makin’ it right, ‘cause we’ll never be wrong…”

Gabriel sighed. If you can’t beat ‘em… “Together we can take it to the end of the night,” he half-sang, half-said, “your love is like a shadow on me all of the tiiime.”

“I don’t know what to do—”

“—And I’m always in the dark—”

“—We’re livin’ in a powder keg—”

“—And giving off spaaarks…” Gabriel smiled despite himself. Sam was grinning down at him, and there was so much affection in his eyes the archangel was almost inclined to believe it was real.

“I really need you tonight,” they sang together. “Forever’s gonna start tonight, forever’s gonna start tonight…”

Sam rested his forehead against Gabriel’s. “Once upon a time I was falling in love,” he sang quietly. Gabriel joined him as he mumbled out, “But now I’m only falling apart.”

Gabriel set his jaw. “There’s nothing I can do…”

Sam shifted, ducked his head and kissed him.


	6. Are You Fucking Kidding Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one IS actually a continuation of the last chapter. So they're not ALL unrelated one-shots :P

“Are you _fucking kidding me_?”

Sam and Gabriel jumped back from each other, turning to see Dean standing in the doorway looking murderous. He rounded on Gabriel, leaving Sam standing there, frowning and raising a hand to his lips.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” Dean snarled at the archangel. “He’s fucking wasted, Gabriel. And you’re taking advantage—Jesus fucking Christ, I’m actually gonna kill you.”

Gabriel threw his hands up. “Dean, _Dean_ , hey, _he_ kissed _me_. I didn’t do anything!”

Dean glared, shot a glance at his brother, who still looked dazed. “Sammy,” he barked. “That true?”

“S’what true?”

“Did you kiss Gabriel, or was it the other way around?”

Sam nodded. “He wasn’t even gonna _stay_ ,” he said. “I had to hug him, ‘cause he thought I was lyin’.”

Dean deflated slightly, cast helpless looks between the two of them. Finally, he shook his head and slumped. “I can’t fucking… okay, whatever. Gabriel… you c’mon, you’re leaving.” He gave the archangel a light nudge towards the door. “And Sam, you don’t fucking do that again, okay? You’re drunk. Go to bed.”

Sam looked at Gabriel like a kid being told to say goodbye to his pet puppy. “No, no, don’t take him yet, Dean, we’re not done!”

“Sam,” Dean’s voice was gentle, “you’re not in your right mind right now. Sleep it off, then you can figure this out, okay?”

“‘M drunk, not hypnotized,” Sam snapped, and Gabriel was more than impressed by the fact that he could actually _say_ the word “hypnotized” in his condition. “I still… like Gabriel when ‘m sober. Just don’ say anything.”

Gabriel knew he shouldn’t trust what Sam was saying right now. He knew there was no sense putting stock in his words, especially when what he was saying was… But still, he couldn’t stop the swell of warmth in his chest at that.

“No, Dean’s right,” he said. “Even if you mean it—” _and I know you don’t, you can’t_ “—I’m not gonna touch you when you’re bombed, kiddo.”

Sam beamed. “S’why, right there,” he said. “Y’r an asshole, but you love me.”

Dean made a face. “Okay, time to go.”

He left, and Gabriel followed. Paused in the doorway and glanced back at Sam, who was still grinning after him.

“See you tomorrow, Sam,” Gabriel said, and closed the door behind him.


	7. Please Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other prompt for this one was "Everything is going to be okay".

They were on a beach this time. A smooth rock climbed out of the sand and the ocean and Sam was lying on it, sunshine buttery warm against his skin and Gabriel a soft weight against his side. Sam had one arm around him, his fingers trailing soft along his shoulder. Gabriel’s were doing the same over Sam’s chest, the archangel humming tunelessly and curling a leg around Sam’s as he did so.

Sam smiled. A breeze rustled through the arbutus trees at the edge of the beach, and Gabriel pressed in tighter.

“Sam.”

There was a note of gentle in Gabriel’s voice, that fragile sort of gentle that only bled through when—

Sam set his teeth, felt that familiar sickish feeling settle in his gut. “Not yet.”

“C’mon, kiddo, suck it up.” Gabriel’s tone was light, but Sam caught the bitter thread running under it. “You’ve been playing the game long enough to be used to it by now."

“Please, Gabriel.”

Gabriel sat up, and Sam followed him, kept a hand on his arm to hold him there, to make him _real_.

“Don’t get sappy on me now, Sammoose,” Gabriel said, quirking a brow. “You know I was only using you for your body heat.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s not enough. I don’t even know if you’re really…”

Gabriel sighed. “I tell you what I can, kiddo. But I don’t know who’s watching. And I’m not exactly in a position to—“ something flickered through his expression. “Oh, _fuck_. Sam. I gotta go yesterday.”

Sam tightened his grip. He didn’t care if he was being selfish, he didn’t even care whether or not this was really happening—this was his one good thing, and he couldn’t lose it, couldn’t let it go.

“Please stay,” he said quietly.

Then the beach was gone, and Sam opened his eyes.

He curled into himself as hollow misery crept heavy and slow through his bones. Gabriel’s wings had been scorch marks on the motel floor, and nearly five years had passed since. The Winchesters were holed up in a motel in Colorado on their way back to the bunker, and as Dean and Castiel had gotten their own room, Sam was alone.

He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to remember what it felt like to have Gabriel warm at his side.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Sam shot upright, gun in his hand before he could blink. Gabriel— _Gabriel_ —threw his hands up.

“Whoa, hey, easy there, Sammich!” he yelped. Sam lowered the gun slightly, and he lowered his hands the same. “Fucking hell, itchy fingers much?”

“H-how do I know it’s really you?” Sam hissed, though god, oh god, _let it be him_.

Gabriel waggled his brows. Snapped his fingers, and the gun was gone. Sam was tense, his heart pounding with mingled hope and fear as Gabriel crossed the space between them and pulled Sam into a rough kiss.

And yes, thank everything under the fucking sun, it was real.

“Satisfied?” Gabriel murmured as they broke apart.

“Very.” Sam laughed and hugged him. “You’re here. You’re alive. I… how long? Why couldn’t you—?”

“All in good time, Sammy.” Gabriel buried his face in the crook of Sam’s neck, his voice muffled. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ve got you.”

Sam held him tighter.


End file.
